Exceptions
by Tuesday Williams
Summary: Devastated by the loss of his two best friends, the Doctor returns to his ship alone and without a destination. However, through a turn of wibbly-wobbly, timey-wimey events, the Time Lord finds himself in the company of an old friend... or two. Set post-Angels Take Manhattan and pre-Snowmen. DOCTOR WHO IS THE PROPERTY OF THE BBC. I HAVE NO CLAIM OVER CHARACTERS USED IN THIS STORY.
1. Chapter 1- They're Gone

He stepped into the Tardis, footfalls reverberating against the solid walls and floor. The lighting in the control room was softer, dimmer than usual, as though the ship were trying to comfort him. It didn't help.

Slowly, the Doctor approached the center of the room. He flicked a small switch to his left without even realizing what he was doing, his body operating on pure muscle memory. For several long minutes, he just stood there, blankly staring at the controls before him. Finally, he raised his heavy head. "Well, old girl," he murmured with a weak, wistful smile. "Where to next?"

The Doctor ran a finger slowly down to a small, blue button that he couldn't really remember the purpose of. Stabiliser? Voice control? No, he recalled after a moment. Autopilot. He could let the Tardis take him wherever she wanted to, which– he shook his head fondly– she usually did anyway. Not particularly caring one way or another, he pressed the little button.

_It was as if he'd caused an explosion_. Instantly, the Tardis's unusually gentle lighting turned to a fiery red and her low alarm sounded. Before the Doctor could do anything, he was flung to the floor as the ship plummeted into the Time Vortex at an alarming rate. Feeling more alive (and worried) than he'd felt in hours, the Doctor scrambled to his feet and began flipping switches, pressing buttons, braking– but to no avail. Nothing could stop her. Panic setting in, he pushed that little blue Autopilot button, but it was jammed. Before he could even curse himself for using it to begin with, the Doctor was thrown back again. This time, though, he must have hit his head and been knocked briefly unconscious, for when he opened his eyes, the Tardis was still. Her lights had returned to their usual glow and the alarm had quieted. Slowly hoisting himself to his feet, the Doctor peered about him. "Geronimo," he murmured to himself.

Everything looked as it should; the blue, uppy-downy thing in the center of the control panel was motionless and not a thing in the ship had been displaced. The Doctor, upset though he may have been, could not contain his curiosity. Carefully, for his legs were unsteady, he approached the Tardis's door. He hesitated for just a moment, then opened it and peered outside.

London. How very strange. Of all the places in time and space, why had the Tardis chosen to bring him here? Judging by the cars speeding down the street in front of him and the airplanes above, it was sometime in the early 21st century. 2015, perhaps? It couldn't be 2012, for, though it was similar, it was subtly different from _their _London. The Pond's London.

As he looked about, he noticed a young couple walking hand-in-hand on a sidewalk across the road from him. They weren't far off, but they were walking away from where he stood. The man was thin with light brown hair and the woman was tall, long-legged and... _ginger_.

His hearts leapt into his throat and for a fleeting moment, he didn't care that it was impossible, didn't remember that he'd knelt at their grave earlier that day. All he cared about was reaching them. He darted across the street, away from the Tardis, running at full speed until he was only a short distance from them. He'd just opened his mouth to shout her name when... No, he realised, his spirits sinking. The man had turned his head just enough to reveal a rounded, somewhat flat nose, so unlike the thin, pointed one that had protruded from his friend's face. Upon seeing this, the Doctor noticed other, slightly less-obvious details about the couple which made it clear that they were not _them_. The woman's hair was a dark, fake-looking red that could only have come from a bottle. Nothing at all like _her _vibrant, orangey locks. The man's clothes were simple and slightly athletic, not bearing any resemblance to _his _usual plaid-shirted, skinny-jeaned ensemble.

Quickly wiping away the moisture that had appeared in his eyes and straightening his bow tie, the Doctor collected himself. Of course it wasn't them. There was no way it could _possibly _be them, he told himself firmly. _They were gone_.

He glanced once more at the young couple, who had now become nothing but silhouettes in the distance. So lucky they were, he thought, to never have met him. So simple, so safe, so _normal _without that mad old Doctor as their friend.

Dejected, he sat down on a nearby bench for the second time that day, not even registering that there was someone sitting next to him. He buried his head in his hands and let out a soft groan.

"You alright there?" Came a woman's voice from beside him. He started at the sound but didn't bother to look up.

"I'm always alright." He muttered dishonestly. His hands were pressed so tightly against his eyes that he'd begun to see spots.

"Funny," she mused. "I know someone who says that."

"Hmm," he said, half-listening to her.

"He never is, though, when he says it. Just lies so he won't have to explain how he feels to anyone."

The Doctor made another indistinguishable sound to indicate that he was, in theory, listening.

"I reckon you're the same way, yeah?"

At that moment, something was triggered in the back of the Doctor's mind. Some tiny, locked-up drawer had been opened and suddenly, a flood of familiarity surged through him. All at once, the woman's voice beside him gained a face, a life, a spirit... a name. A name he'd thought he might never get to say again.

He looked up, unable to trust his own thoughts. For the first time, he looked at the woman seated beside him, saw the golden hair, the smooth skin, the warm brown eyes. He felt his own eyes widen in wonder as he spoke aloud the name that belonged to that face.

"Rose Tyler."


	2. Chapter 2- Mr Song

**Thanks for the great response to Chapter One! Here's the next bit, which will be from Rose's perspective. It might get a bit slow because it's basically a lot of dialogue, but I hope you like it anyhow!**

_Rose_

The man stared at her in amazement, his mouth agape. Rose felt her cheeks go red. He knew her name, but she was quite sure they'd never met. If they had, she would have remembered.

Still, she thought, studying his high cheekbones and squared chin, something _was _familiar about him. She just couldn't place what it was.

The pair of them sat like this for several seconds before the man, seeming to remember his manners, gave himself a slight shake. "Sorry. Brain thinking." A wide smile spread across his face. "Nice to meet you, Rose. I'm George, George Song."

He extended a hand, which Rose shook unsurely. "Glad to meet you, George," she said, grinning in spite of herself. "But how'd you-"

As if reading her mind, George answered, "I'm a friend of a friend, I suppose. Did some business with your dad once. Charming bloke."

Rose's father was a successful inventor and businessman with many eccentric colleagues. It didn't surprise her that he would know this George.

"That'd explain why you still called me 'Rose Tyler'," she pointed out, looking down to the ring on her left hand. It had a dark, rectangular sapphire in the center and two tiny diamonds on either side. The band was white gold and, though it was not visible, there was a tiny inscription on the inside saying _I'll love you until the end of time. _Untraditional though it was, Rose felt that it was a perfect representation of the bond she and her husband shared.

"You've gotten married?" came George's voice. Rose looked back up to see that his thin eyebrows were raised in obvious surprise.

"Mm-hmm," she nodded, unsure of why that would come as such a shock to him. "Just four months ago."

Quickly collecting himself, George made a somewhat strange sound in the back of his throat and then rearranged his face back into its previous pleasant expression. "What's the name now, then?"

"Smith. Rose Smith." She smiled to herself at this, still not quite used to the sound of it. Of all the surnames out there, it had to be perhaps the most commonplace, but that was part of its charm, she'd decided.

Clearly taken-aback once more, George furrowed his brow. She she saw him mouth something to himself, but then he shook his head as if making some sort of connection that cleared away all confusion. He then regarded her earnestly, "Well, Rose Smith, congratulations."

She exhaled a quick laugh and replied, "Thanks, George."

Meeting his eyes for a moment, Rose couldn't help but feel that, as odd as George Song seemed, he was a kind person, someone to be trusted. It was almost like the feeling one gets while talking to an old friend.

George broke the silence. "So, how's your mum and dad?"

A bit surprised by this commonplace question, Rose took a moment to reply. "They're... they're just fine, yeah. Mum's got her hands full with Tony– my little brother– and Dad's keeping busy, too." She trailed off there, at a loss of things to say. Normally, she would have returned the question, but seeing as she knew nothing of this man's family, she instead inquired about his work. He gave a somewhat vague explanation of how he'd dabbled in a few different professions, most recently working in a toy shop. Rose replied that she'd once been employed at a shop, as well, and there followed a brief conversation about cash registers and name badges. She was glad he hadn't asked her about her current job, for, strictly speaking, she wasn't allowed to say.

Torchwood, where she worked, was an organization, which (among other things) worked to protect their planet against any invading forces. There, her knowledge of time, space, and alien technology was crucial to the company's research teams. Paired with others' expertise, she was quite a valuable asset.

She and George continued to chat for nearly half an hour, though not once did he mention why he'd seemed so distraught when they'd met. And, although she was curious, Rose never asked.

"I should probably get going," she admitted when a nearby church bell had announced that it was five o'clock. "My mum and dad are supposed to be coming around for dinner tonight, and I'd hate to keep 'em waiting."

George, though looking slightly crestfallen, nodded understandingly. "Right. I, er... I don't suppose I'll run into you again anytime soon, so..."

Oddly enough, though they were barely acquaintances, Rose was as saddened by this as George seemed to be. She was about to suggest that he join them for dinner when suddenly, he froze, spotting something behind her. She turned to see what it was and was met with the sight of her husband standing across the way, his square glasses on as he inspected something in front of him. With a jolt, she saw what he was staring at, and for a moment she couldn't believe her eyes.

But there it was. Right there, not twenty footsteps away.

The Tardis.


	3. Chapter 3- Reunion

******Wow, guys! I never expected this to get as many people following it as it has. Thank you all so much for your response; it's very encouraging to me to hear that people might like what I write. It's actually inspired me to begin work on an original novel idea that I came up with a while back.**

**However, I started this first and I'm determined to finish it, though I'm not quite sure where I'm going from here or how long it's going to be. But whatever; I'm rambling. Without further ado, I present to you chapter three, which is much longer than the first two!**

_The Doctor_

He needed a moment to take it all in. There he was, standing beside a woman he'd thought he would never see again, staring at a man that was a shadow of his former self. The duplicate Doctor was closely studying the Tardis that had once, in a way, been his own.

This human version of himself had changed little since their last encounter. His hair was still spiked, he still wore the same ensemble of a pinstriped suit and white sneakers, though the brown trench coat hanging from his thin frame possessed slight differences from the one hanging in the spacious wardrobe of the Tardis.

Just as the Doctor pondered this, his preoccupied mind registered that Rose had shot off from her place next to him– he'd forgotten how quickly she could run– and was presently sprinting towards the Police Box and the other Doctor– her Doctor. By the time she reached him, the present Doctor was already halfway across the street, following her with great haste and scolding himself for leaving his ship out in the open. When he skidded to a stop next to the Tardis, both the human Doctor– John Smith, he realised– and Rose turned to face him, their expressions scrunched into similar masks of curiousity.

The human Doctor removed his rectangular glasses as he unwittingly regarded his Time Lord self. The latter straightened his bowtie uncomfortably, knowing that he was going to be hard-pressed to maintain his alias at this point. In running with such ferocity of action, he'd all but shouted, "Look at me! I'm the Doctor!" He just hoped that the other two would be so caught up with the presence of the Tardis that he would have a chance to slip away before being discovered.

In a clumsy attempt to divert the attention from himself, the Doctor gestured to the blue box in front of him and said, "That's new. Probably one of those modern art pieces that keep cropping up around here." When neither of them responded straight away, he continued, babbling aimlessly. "You know, I saw a wonderful sculpture the other day just outside of Chigwell. Lovely thing. Of course, I hadn't any idea at all of what it was supposed to be; my first thought was a boat, but at second glance, it looked more like a house. Though now that I think of it, it was probably just meant to be a houseboat."

Returning his gaze to what was obviously not a modern art piece at all, the metacrisis Doctor remarked, "Probably." Rose did the same, though not without first giving her new friend "George" a look of the most curious nature. He pretended not to notice and took a very sudden interest in his right shoe.

"This is really it, though, isn't it Doctor?" she whispered anxiously to her Doctor, running a finger along the worn blue paint.

He did the same, replacing the glasses with his other hand and tugging on his ear slightly. The other Doctor observed this habit with a bit of embarrassment; he remembered doing that, but hadn't realised how odd it had looked. This was similar, he supposed, to the feeling one gets while watching a recording of oneself and wondering, "Does my voice really sound like that?" Although, thinking of it, the Doctor did that with every regeneration, too.

"It's impossible," the human Doctor was saying. "But here it is. When I– or, well, he– left here, he closed the gap between us forever. Somehow, though, it's opened again." He made a slow circle around the Tardis, muttering to himself all the way. Only snippets of what he was saying could be heard. "Vortex… the entire universe… no, no, that wouldn't work… spacey-wacey stuff… _Oh_," He suddenly exclaimed, returning to where Rose stood with a gleam in his eye. "Oh, that's good. Very good."

Unable to contain his thoughts, for he was having trouble keeping up with himself, the Time Lord Doctor stepped forward. "Sorry, what's good, very good? Because I know that tone of voice, and it usually means that whatever it is is actually _bad_, _very bad_."

The human Doctor whirled on his Time Lord counterpart and spoke very quickly. "Two things to say. One, you couldn't possibly understand what I'm talking about without an extensive knowledge of time and space and the rifts between multiple parallel universes and therefore I can't tell you because, quite frankly, it would take too long to explain and I've got a future version of myself wandering about here somewhere and I'd like to find him. Three," he paused, shook his head and continued, "No wait, two. Two, who exactly are you?"

Slightly put-off by this, the other Doctor straightened his shoulders and regarded his one-hearted self smugly. "I don't understand, then? I could never understand? Are you sure? I could be a genius, for all you know. In fact," He smiled pleasantly. "I am. But you don't notice. You know why? You're denying what's right in front of you. Your life has been normal for too long; you've been fighting that old urge to grab a complete stranger and show them something incredible for so long that you've forgotten how to do it. Am I right?"

The two Doctors stared at each other for a few moments, the human and the Time Lord. Each one considered the other, not really knowing what to say.

Finally, Rose, who had been quiet throughout the entire exchange, broke the silence. "Oh, my God," she murmured, her voice little more than a whisper. Both Doctors looked to Rose, but her eyes were locked to the Time Lord's. She stepped closer, reaching a hand out as if verifying that he wasn't a mirage. When her fingertips made contact with his jacket, she froze, a single tear running down her cheek. "It's you."

The Doctor hesitated, his hearts thumping quickly. There was no use in denying it; he'd finally given himself away. It would have been impossible to hide it, and he realised he'd been silly to think that he could have fooled her for long. When someone loves you, even a different face can't possibly mask your identity.

So now, even though she was married and he was married and her husband was watching and his wife was liable, knowing her, to show up at any moment, the Doctor closed the gap between them with one large step and gathered Rose into a tight embrace. It was not romantic, really, but it wasn't completely platonic, either. It was, he decided, very much like the way he remembered hugging Rose to be, but with a few minor differences. Her body no longer fit perfectly against his, her head more even with his own (he'd gotten slightly shorter with his most recent regeneration). He was no longer filled with any urge to run his hands through her soft hair or bring her lips to his. He simply clung to her, squeezing his eyes shut to block the wave of tears that suddenly threatened to fall from them. He could feel her shoulders shake as she sobbed, gripping him tightly. They stood like this for maybe a minute, just basking in the moment. Neither of them said a word, but each knew exactly what the other was thinking.

For a moment, the Doctor silently thanked the Tardis for bringing him here, however she'd managed to do it. The smart old girl knew that this was just what he'd needed. A reunion.


	4. Chapter 4- Theories

**Sorry I've been so long getting this uploaded! My life has been full of plot twists lately. However, I refuse to let that get in the way of me eventually completing this story. Here's chapter four; let me know if you have any characters/ideas you'd like to see incorporated. I've got a vague plot formed in my head, but nothing is set in stone. Enjoy!**

Rose

"You mean this is him?" Jackie said skeptically, looking back and forth between the two Doctors.

"Yes, mum, he's regenerated again."

Her gaze fell on the new Doctor and she studied him closely. Rose's dad was dumbfounded, still not an expert on the concept of regeneration. "Let me get this straight," he said, his brow furrowed. "This is him, the real one- no offense intended, Doctor-"

"None taken," replied the human Doctor courteously.

"-But he's changed into a completely new person."

"Right."

Pete paced to the other end of the sitting room and back, his hands in his pockets. "Okay, I've seen stranger," he admitted, returning his thoughtful stare to the bow-tied Time Lord. "Just answer me this one question: How exactly did you get here?"

"That's right," Jackie murmured, as though it were occurring to her for the first time, too. "I thought the- the thing between the two worlds was gone. How'd you cross it, then?"

The Doctor shrugged. "It's impossible. It shouldn't have happened, but it did."

Rose's mum clearly wasn't satisfied. "But if it's impossible, it's impossible!"

The human Doctor spoke up. "They say that a lot of things are impossible, but if you haven't been paying attention, look around yourself." He held his arms out to indicate their surroundings. "We're in a house owned by a man who, in one version of reality, is dead. He's married to a woman who, in this reality, is also dead. They have two children, who, genetically, are brother and sister, but are technically only half-siblings." He pointed to himself. "Your daughter is married to a man made out of a hand! If any if this isn't 'impossible', I don't know what is."

Rose took his arm gently and addressed her mother. "Just take it for what it is, mum."

The Doctor (the real one, according to Pete) took a step forward. "What he– or well, what I am trying to say is that every rule has its exceptions, and that's what this is." Everyone was listening intently. "Impossible possibilities, if you will."

There was a moment of brief silence following this statement, broken by Rose, to whom a thought had just occurred. "Doctor," she began, addressing the Time Lord gently but with a trace of concern in her voice. "You may have gotten here just fine, but how is it you're planning on getting back?"

"Ah," he said, an odd sort of smile playing on his lips. "Here's the thing, see: I haven't the faintest idea."

Ten minutes later, they had all gone back to the Tardis and now both Doctors were engaged in an intense discussion. Rose, Jackie, Pete, and a bewildered little Tony were standing in the middle of the control room, talking amongst themselves.

"Mummy," said the child, tugging on the hem of Jackie's shirt. "Mummy, why is it smaller on the outside?"

The bow-tie-wearing Doctor broke his concentration for a moment, found Tony's wide eyes from across the room, and said, "Don't be ridiculous, Anthony. It isn't smaller on the outside." The boy's brow furrowed at this, causing the Doctor to smile and say, "It's bigger on the inside."

With this explanation, the two Doctors resumed their hushed conversation. Rose sighed as she looked at this stranger and her husband. It was difficult to remember that they were the both the same man; they were so very different.

She wondered, then, what the Doctor had been doing since they had last met. How long had it been for him? Had he regenerated just once, or was this his twelfth or thirteenth reincarnation? That would explain the difference between the two. Rose considered how extremely old he must be. Had he reached one-thousand yet? What had given him the deeply saddened eyes, the slight heaviness in his gait?

Still, for some reason, the question that plagued her most was whether or not he'd found someone else to take her place. Rose recalled Donna Noble. What had become of her? Had he replaced her, too, the same as he'd done with Rose when she was gone? What pretty girl had been traveling with the Doctor most recently?

She knew it was silly, but she wondered if he'd ever fallen in love again. The thought both hurt and confused her. Watching her human husband, his wild hair, the sharp features and impossibly ancient eyes that she knew by heart, she couldn't imagine loving him more. Could she blame his original self for seeking someone else?

Rose's thoughts were interrupted by Tony's small hand poking into her thigh. "Rosie?" She looked down at him, smiled and scooped him up into her arms, planting a small kiss on his forehead. This entire ordeal would be overwhelming for her brother, she thought. He'd finally entered the magical world his family had always told him of.

She easily remembered her first time stepping into the Tardis. She'd been nineteen years old, freshly unemployed, and strangely entranced by this mysterious Doctor fellow. A small smile pulled at her lips as she recalled the living plastic version of her then boyfriend, Mickey Smith, pounding on a metal door that led to where she and the Doctor were standing. When he was about to break through, the Doctor had urged her to enter his Police Box, and Rose, seeing no other alternative, had done so. Upon one glance inside, she'd pulled back in amazement, running back out and inspecting the blue box from the outside. Sure enough, though, it was no trick or optical illusion; it really was bigger on the inside. The sheer shock of that revelation had led her to one conclusion: the Doctor was from another world. She'd gone inside and asked him directly if he was alien, to which he'd simply replied, "Yes."

It was, perhaps, the easiest response to a question she'd ever received from the Doctor.

"Right, then," her one-hearted Doctor said, raising his voice to address the entire group. "My– er, learned colleague and I have come up with three possible explanations for all of this."

His two-hearted counterpart, though looking a bit disgruntled, continued. "One: this is all a dream state intentionally brought on by the Tardis to distract from… other things."

"Not likely," remarked Rose, setting her brother back down. "If it is, then I'm having the same dream."

"Which is exactly what I would expect you to say," the Doctor pointed out. "Next, there's always the theory that when I left here the last time, I didn't close the gap completely. Also unlikely, but mistakes do happen."

Rose recalled the "last time," when she'd barely gotten a chance to say goodbye. It still hurt to think about, even with the Doctor back.

"The last idea," he began, pacing and adjusting his bow-tie. "Is that the universe you've been living in since I crashed here is actually an offshoot of your parallel world. That would mean that in getting here, I accidentally created a second version of your universe."

Rose's head pounded with this thought. "You mean there could be another version of us right now," she gestured to her family. "Sitting around a table and eating dinner without meeting you?"

The Time Lord nodded. "And that's the only difference. Everyone else would be doing the exact same thing either way, but I've come in and changed your evening completely, haven't I?"

"Doctor?" Rose's dad interrupted. When both men turned to face him expectantly, he added, "John, I mean. Good God, this is confusing." He blinked fiercely several times before addressing his son-in-law. "Anyhow, John, which answer do you think is most likely?"

Rose's Doctor walked towards them slowly. "I'm not certain."

"Then how can he get back?" Pete asked, gesturing to the other Doctor, who now leaned against the Tardis's central control panel.

"We have to try to find a solution for all three theories," said the Doctor, taking hold of Rose's hand. Her heart beat faster for just a moment and she marveled at the fact that her husband's touch could still make her so giddy.

"We?" Jackie asked, repeating the Doctor's word.

Rose's Doctor smiled. "We."

"Right," the Time Lord Doctor chimed in, walking over to join the others. He knelt before Tony and smiled. "Young man, how would you like to travel in time?"


	5. Chapter 5- Talking to Myself

**PLEASE READ ME!  
Hey guys, sorry it's been a while! Here's the next chapter. I've tweaked my previous ideas a bit to fit in with whatever they're planning for the 50th Anniversary this year, seeing as ROSE AND TEN ARE COMING BACK! *Happy dance*. I've got a plan which should make this story fit in with the timeline, provided it's Rose and Metacrisis Ten in the show. I've now placed this Fanfic in January of 2014, so you'll notice that Tony will seem slightly older in this chapter than he did previously (He'd be at least seven, maybe eight since Jackie was pregnant with him in like 2006, and I'd been writing him as a five-year-old up until now). Anyways, that's all! Hope you like this!**

The Doctor

"Chameleon Circuit still down, then?" His other self inquired, standing over him. The two-hearted Doctor was currently lying on his back, wedged underneath an array of wires in the TARDIS. The pair of them were alone underneath the control panel, checking to ensure that nothing had gone awry when the TARDIS crashed. It was the first time they'd been alone together.

"Never got around to fixing it," the Doctor replied, speaking around the Sonic, which was presently being held by his teeth as his hands fumbled at the cables above.

"Brilliant," his human counterpart responded, sounding extremely pleased. "I'd hoped you wouldn't."

"Of course I wouldn't. It's like you don't know me at all," the Doctor joked.

There was a brief pause following this, filled by scuffling and, every few seconds, the whirring of the Sonic. After a few minutes, the human Doctor spoke again.

"How old are we now?"

The Time Lord considered this for just a moment before responding. "Twelve-hundred and four years, eight months, and eleven days."

The human Doctor smiled, unseen by his elder self. "You don't know, do you?"

There was another short pause, followed by the Doctor admitting, "Lost track. That does happen, you know. It should be somewhere around twelve-hundred, though." He then busied himself with checking the TARDIS's translating links for a moment before his metacrisis clone made another inquiry:

"How did I… or, well, you… what happened?"

The Doctor stopped working at his, sighed and slid out from underneath the panel of wires. He looked into what used to be his own eyes and said, "The Master happened." Those sharp eyes widened. He then proceeded to explain how his Time Lord nemesis had returned, planning to bring the other Gallifreyans with him. For the first time, he recounted how he had been rescued by the green Vinvocci pair, how he'd seen Rassilon again as well as his own mother. They both paused to let this last statement settle. After a heavy moment, he explained how he'd then shot the whitepoint star and sent the Time Lords back into the Time Lock. Both of them winced when he told them of the Master's last-minute sacrifice and how they'd all vanished in a flash of light. By the time he'd reached the bit where he'd absorbed a massive dose of radiation to save Wilf, both Doctors were kneeling on the solid floor of the TARDIS.

"I'm sorry," the human murmured. "I'm so sorry."

The Doctor nodded in acknowledgement. "After that," he continued, recalling the memory vividly. "I got back to the TARDIS and visited them, all of them. Martha, Mickey–and blimey, they're married now; probably should have mentioned that– kept Sarah Jane's son from being hit by a car, passed a note to Jack in a pub, even saw Alonso!"

The human Doctor looked surprised. "Allons-y Alonso?"

"The very same," the Time Lord continued. "I tracked down Joan Redford's great-granddaughter. She wrote a book about all of that, bless her. Attended the wedding of one Donna Noble," he watched as his former self's eyebrows shot up. He grinned for a moment, letting that sink in, before letting out a half-laugh, half-sigh. "And just before it happened, I saw her. Rose."

The John Smith Doctor looked puzzled. "How'd you manage that?"

"Two-thousand and five, New Year's Day. She hadn't met us yet, of course, but I popped by anyhow."

"What did you say?" Rose's husband asked.

The Doctor chuckled lightly. "I told her she'd have a great year."

The pair of them grinned at this. The Doctor, surprisingly enough, felt a tear slide down his cheek. He hadn't even realised he'd had moisture welling in his eyes. He didn't need to continue the story, for what happened next was painfully familiar to the both of them.

"What about River?" The human asked after a moment. His voice was little more than a whisper. "Have you seen her again yet?"

The Doctor turned to face his other self and exhaled dramatically. "Oh, River Song. I don't even know where to start with her."

"Start with who she is. Where did she come from? How did you meet?"

The eleventh version of the Doctor openly laughed at this. "That's a story I don't think even _we _have enough time for. Not now, anyway."

His point was proven by Rose's voice calling from above. "Doctor?"

Both of the men below yelled back in response. "Yes?"

"I meant– Oh, nevermind. Both of you, are you nearly finished down there?"

"Just a minute!" They called in unison.

"Right," Rose yelled back, exasperated. It must have been very trying on her, the Doctor reasoned, having to deal with two versions of her own husband. He made a mental note to talk with her about it later on.

"We need to straighten out the matter of being the same person," the metacrisis Doctor pointed out.

The Time Lord nodded his head in agreement. "It's a bit confusing, isn't it?"

"I'm afraid so," the former admitted. They both paused for several seconds, thinking. "I suppose I'll go by John as long as you're here."

The two-hearted Doctor frowned. "They're used to calling _you_ 'Doctor', though, not me."

"To my colleagues and Rose's friends, I'm 'John'. They call me that as often as anything else."

"Colleagues? At Torchwood?" He heaved himself up from the floor and started up a thin ladder which led back to the main control room.

The human Doctor followed behind, shaking his head. "I'm only there when they need me. Otherwise, I'm, well…" he hesitated. The eleventh Doctor looked down to see his other self looking slightly embarrassed. "I teach physics at a secondary school in London."

The Time Lord felt his eyebrows raise in surprise. "An actual job? With colleagues and paychecks and," he shuddered. "A _desk_?" Reaching the top of the ladder, he turned back and gave the spiky-haired man a once-over. "That's so _human_."

"I _am _human," he pointed out, looking at something over the Doctor's shoulder. Glancing behind him, the Time Lord noticed Rose standing several yards away, holding Tony's little hand and laughing at whatever her father was saying. With a swallow, he realised that her days of time-traveling had ended in favour of a new adventure: _life_.

Whether he liked it or not, the Doctor had to admit to himself that his little Rose had grown up. She was no longer the spunky young girl he'd journeyed to the corners of the universe with, nor was she the hardened fighter he'd last left on the beach with his metacrisis clone. She was simply a woman. A charming, capable, beautiful, gloriously _human_ woman with a job and the husband that he himself could never be. It was like… well, it was like reliving his last months with–he forced himself to think of her– with _Amy_ all over again, but this time all in one moment.

He looked back to her Doctor– John– and observed him as he watched his wife. The devotion in his eyes, the beautiful weakness that showed how completely, hopelessly in love he was… that was why the Doctor had left him with Rose, he remembered. Because he himself could never settle and pour everything he had into a marriage the way John did. It was all so human, so _deliciously _human, and that was why he couldn't do it. Because, though he looked it and could easily convince others of it, the Doctor wasn't human. He just wasn't.

_That_ was why, he decided, River was such a perfect mate for him. She wasn't entirely human, either, yet like him, she was the only one of her kind. They both craved adventure as well as being with each other, forcing them to split their time between the two activities. As a result, their marriage was distanced, leaving them room to be individuals as well as closeness when they stumbled upon each other. It worked nicely for them, but it wouldn't have for any other couple. They were unique and content, but far from human.

As he pondered this, Rose noticed the two Doctors and came over to join them. She broke their silence by wrapping her arms around John, giving him a light peck on the cheek and saying, "Took you long enough. Are we ready?"

"We seem to be," John replied, planting a quick kiss on her nose in return. The Doctor wasn't sure if he should watch.

"And where, may I ask, are we going?" Rose inquired, looking back and forth between the two men.

The Doctor slipped his hands into his pockets and took a step forward. "I say we start with the second theory: that the gap didn't close entirely when I left you two here."

"Okay," Rose acknowledged. "So, the bay in two-thousand and eight."

"Exactly," the Doctor replied. "Er, incidentally, what year is it now?"

"Twenty-fourteen, in January." Rose and John replied automatically.

"Alright," the Doctor said, stepping to the console area. He pushed a few buttons before calling, "Anthony?"

The boy ran over.

The Doctor smiled. "Pull this lever down."

"What's it do?" Tony asked.

"You'll see," he replied, giving Rose and John a knowing smile.

Anthony hesitated for a moment, standing on his toes, one hand extended towards the handle. "Now?"

"Now."

The young boy paused for an instant, took a firm hold of the lever, and pulled. Everyone in the TARDIS was thrown back and the control room erupted in exhilarated cries.

"Whoa!" Yelped Tony.

"You could've given us a little warning!" Jackie screeched from across the room, catching Pete's hand.

Rose whooped and laughed, clutching John, whose face broke into a wider grin than it had in months as they felt the ship jolt into space.

Faster and faster they went, gathering speed until they were quite literally _shooting_ through the Time Vortex. Amid the growing _vworp, vworp_ of the TARDIS's engines, two voices could be heard, their cries identical in glee.

"_ALLONS-Y!_"

"_GERONIMO!_"


End file.
